on the dusty red carpet
by your side of my bed
The music you played,
It spread and misled,
and yet I could hear
the promise you made:
"I'll love you,
my dear,
'till the end of the earth."
But your world was so small
and the end was, in fact,
less far than we thought:
A bus and a train, an hour or so,
that's how long it took
to gather your thoughts.
The river your crossed,
to take yourself out
of the life I rearranged
to make room for us.
Elsewhere on this earth,
Below southern skies
A man bleeds and burns.
Without fear, he cries:
"How fast did it travel,
this bullet you shot?
How small, oh, how small
Is this blighted earth?"
Is this blighted earth?"
Comments
Post a Comment